


He's My Doctor

by writingbygab



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Doctor AU, HE's my doctor haha, M/M, doctor!Whizzer, it is not gruesome at all but, just thought it would be best to include a warning!, patient!Marvin, this was fun to write and I didn't expect this ending but i like it so enjoy, warning: there is a description of a bloody injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingbygab/pseuds/writingbygab
Summary: Marvin finds himself sitting alone in an emergency room on a Thursday night. He's annoyed and angry and in pain, but when he meets the doctor who will be treating him all of his misgivings suddenly seem to fade away.





	He's My Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! I am not dead. I hope you enjoy this AU that came to my mind from watching far too many episodes of Grey's Anatomy.

 

 

As Marvin sits on the uncomfortable waiting room chair, his bottom becoming numb from the rough cotton like substance underneath him, and as the hard, cold wood straining against his back sends a chill down his spine, he couldn’t help but feel, well, stupid.

 

He always thought cooking was a simple and easy task - one that didn’t require much thought or effort - so as he sits there, blood gushing from his flesh like a sewage pump had burst open in the middle of the road, he just feels... dumb.

 

“Marvin - a, er, uh, Marvin?” A shorter yet older lady with bright white hair and purple glasses calls out.

 

He stands up from the uncomfortable chair, his left hand strongly gripping onto his right wrist to help distract himself from the piercing pain in the palm of his hand.

 

“Sorry, Hun,” the small yet bubbly nurse starts to say while opening the big, heavy doors to the emergency room, “I’m not sure how to pronounce that last name of yours.”

 

“It’s fine,” Marvin replies monotonous despite his blood dripping on the tile beneath him. “Most people don’t.”

 

The nurse walks him to a small room that is separated from the other patients’ by merely a curtain on either side. She pats her hand on the small off-white cot motioning Marvin to sit.

 

“Before the doctor comes in I’m just gonna take your blood pressure and temperature. Then I’m gonna have to ask a few questions.” She says.

 

Marvin manages to mutter out an “Mhm.” Holding back the screams he wants to shout from the unbearable pain in his palm that was coming in waves.

 

“Okay, well your temperature is normal but your blood pressure is a little high.” She says ripping off the cuff from his arm and taking the thermometer out of his mouth.

 

“Well, there is a huge gash in my hand spilling out blood so.” He immediately bit his tongue. Marvin doesn’t mean to be sarcastic, he really doesn’t, but this night had just turned to complete and utter shit. He also feels like any self-control he had is being pushed out of his hand along with his blood.

 

The nurse ignores his sarcastic comment, grabs her clipboard and pen, and starts to ask him questions. Marvin answers the basic medical questions with ease. Prior surgeries, blood type, does he smoke, does he do drugs, etc.

 

“Marital status?” She asks.

 

Marvin quickly inhales and he tightens the grip on his wrist at the sudden flash of pain that hit his hand.

 

“I’m sorry sir, as soon as I get these questions answered I can register you and the doctor will fix you up.”

 

Marvin swallows down a mix of tears and screams and nods.

 

“Marital status?” She repeats.

 

“Single. Well, uh, divorced. I - I mean, does it really matter?” He somewhat answers in a mix of annoyed and uncomfortable screams.

 

“Okay,” the nurse says as she writes a few more things down on her clipboard. “The doctor will be in as soon as he can.”

 

She then leaves him alone in the small room with curtains surrounding him as makeshift walls and the rough fabric of the cot slowly torturing his spine.

 

He lies down and slowly closes his eyes, trying to think of anything but the excruciating pain in his hand.

 

He thinks of Jason.

 

He thinks about how smart and witty that boy is. How Marvin doesn’t even let him beat him at chess anymore but Jason still wins. He then thinks of his smile. The smile that’s rare to come by nowadays but when Marvin happens to create it he feels like the proudest dad in the world. Yet, he feels like he manages to strip the boy of his smile more than lately and when he does he feels like, well, the worst.

 

He slowly feels himself drift off to sleep; he almost lets himself go until he hears the quick drawback of a curtain.

 

He sluggishly sits up and opens his eyes. As the fluorescent light from the hospital sorely enters his eyes and he comes back to consciousness he is able to make out two figures standing in his room.

 

One is the nurse from before and the other was, the other was... wow.

 

Marvin feels his mouth unconsciously open as he stares at the mysterious figure reading a file whose sharp jawline and perfect hairline were becoming more and more perfect as Marvin’s vision restores.

 

“Marvin, this is Dr. Brown.” The nurse introduces him. “He will be the one taking care of your case.”

 

He stops flipping though Marvin’s file and looks up. He then raises one eyebrow and smirks - obviously catching Marvin gawking - because, well, Marvin was obviously gawking.

 

Marvin coughs, catching himself, and ridicules himself inside his head before saying, “So do I need stitches or....”

 

The doctor puts down his file, walks over to him, and grabs Marvin’s injured hand.

 

This guy could not be his doctor. He was too young and too, well, _pretty_.

 

He takes Marvin’s hand into his own two while slowly and deliberately caressing around Marvin’s would with his thumbs. Marvin fights back a noise that immediately jumps to the back of throat.

 

He looks up at the doctor who is carefully studying the wound with every inch of his face as his brow is furrowed and his mouth is pressed into a tight line. Marvin can’t help but stare at his perfectly smooth skin or the little piece of hair drooping down into his brown eyes and he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was so close that he could basically _feel_ the doctor’s breath hitting his face. Suddenly, he looks straight at Marvin and they make eye contact. The unexpected intimate moment makes Marvin buckle underneath himself, and the previous and mischievous smirk quickly returns to the doctor’s face before putting Marvin’s hand down and walking away.

 

“Yeah, definitely needs stitches. That wound is deep.” He answers, then to Marvin’s complete dismay asks, “How did you manage that?”

 

“Fishing.” Marvin blurts out without even thinking.

 

There’s a beat of silence among the three of them that makes Marvin’s stomach turn.

 

“... Fishing?” Dr. Brown repeats to him questionably.

 

“Yeah, I - um accidentally scraped myself with the fishing hook.” Marvin says looking down at the cream tiled floor, painstakingly aware of how stupid he sounds.

 

“Well, that is one thick fishing hook you were using.” Dr. Brown says. Just the _way_ he says it - like he could so, obviously see right through him - makes Marvin want to fight him. And he could. But he doesn’t.

 

“I’ll be back to sew you up later, for now, Betsy will clean it up.” He says patting the nurse on the shoulder. He then grabs the file and quickly disappears behind the curtain, leaving his picture-perfect hair and strong yet lenient hands only to Marvin’s memory.

 

“So when did that guy graduate med school? Yesterday?” Marvin preens trying to ignore the exasperating pain that is coming from his hand when the nurse cleans it with an alcohol swab.

 

She lets out a faint laugh. “I know Dr. Brown looks young, well, he is young, but he is the best doctor on the floor.”

 

 _“AHH.”_ Marvin lets out an uncontainable shriek when the nurse pushes the swab deep into his palm.

 

“Sorry, Hun, I promise I’m almost done.” She says reaching for another swab drenched in alcohol.

 

“So how long has that doctor been here to earn the title of _‘best doctor?’_ ” Marvin asks, telling himself he’s just trying to find a distraction from the pain but knows deep down that he just wants to know _more_.

 

“Coming up to two years.” She replies, thankfully too focused on cleaning out the injury to question why Marvin could be so interested in this man. “Okay,” She says pulling out the bloody swab and reaching for a fresh one. “Last one, and I’m really going to have to go deep, so brace yourself.”

 

Marvin nods and closes his eyes. His mind goes to Jason once again before quickly being interrupted with intolerable, agonizing pain.

 

Marvin just sits there, looking at the palm of his hand in a daze. There was no more blood, just pure pink flesh waiting to be closed up. They had given him some pain meds to help calm him and to help him be able to tolerate the stitches. He definitely feels... loose. Like, a happy loose. It’s a different feeling than being drunk. He feels like he could run a marathon and, heck, win a marathon. He starts to laugh - _loud_ \- at the thought of him doing any type of physical activity. _“Oh god,”_ he catches himself, _“how much of this stuff had they given him?”_

With the mix of the pain from cleaning out his hand and the meds he was given, Marvin had completely forgotten about the pretty doctor with nice hair - that is, until, he opens the curtain and shoots him his signature smirk.

 

“Having fun?” The doctor asks while laying out his surgical kit.

 

“Yupppp.” Marvin says trying to have somewhat of a control over himself.

 

The doctor pulls over the chair set up in the room, presumably there for family members, sits down, and reaches for Marvin’s hand.

 

Marvin immediately pulls back, though, and gives him a smirk of his own.

 

“What?” Dr. Brown asks trying to stifle a laugh - obviously aware of Marvin’s lack of sobriety.

 

“I don’t let strange men cut into me unless I know their name first.” Marvin responds.

 

“You know my name.” He says still holding out for Marvin’s hand.

 

“Nope!” Marvin relents. “I know your professional name. I want to know your real name.”

 

Dr. Brown sighs, but Marvin can see in his face that he is somewhat enjoying this banter.

 

“Whizzer.” He straightforwardly replies. “Now let me stitch your hand up before the meds wear off.”

 

“What?” Marvin nearly screams pulling away once again. “I want to know your real name. Not some bullshit, made up one.”

 

Unexpectedly, Dr. Brown grabs Marvin’s wrist and pins down his hand. Marvin looks up, scared that he actually made him upset and was going to receive a big, ugly scar on his hand out of spite, but instead of an annoyed expression he sees the unmistakable smirk and glow in his eyes.

 

 _“Ah”_ Marvin thinks.  _“So he_ does _like games. But he likes to_ win _.”_

 

Dr. Brown reaches for the needle and makes the first incision. Despite the pain meds, it still hurts like hell. Marvin grits his teeth and holds back the screams. Dr. Brown then pulls the stitch across and continues.

 

“For your information,” the doctor unexpectedly says while starting the second stitch, “My name actually _is_ Whizzer.”

 

Marvin bites down the pain but manages to get out, “Really? Oh.”

 

“So now that you know I’ve been honest with you.” He says finishing up the second stitch, “Why don’t you tell me how you really got this cut?”

 

Marvin looks straight at the pretty boy’s face, his pain turning into anguish. “I told you.” He says firmly and direct. “Fishing.”

 

“Ohhhkay.” Dr., or, Whizzer replies starting the third stitch.

 

“You don’t believe me?” Marvin says while simultaneously letting out a shriek of discomfort.

 

“Nope.” Whizzer responds, his eyes never leaving the wound.

 

Marvin scoffs. He looks away although his eyes are soon drawn back to the way Whizzer’s jaw clenches trying to focus on the stitching.

 

“Listen,” Whizzer says unexpectedly that it makes Marvin jump. “I’ve been an emergency room doctor for a while now and I know a kitchen knife injury when I see one.”

 

Marvin grits his teeth even harder from the mix of embarrassment and vindictiveness. Who even _was_ this guy to just read into him and assume everything?

 

But then Marvin catches himself and realizes, he can gain control, dominance – just flip the game on its head.

 

“How long have you been a doctor?” he asks.

 

Whizzer looks up towards Marvin, confused but intrigued.

 

“Umm four years including residency.” He answers looking back down and tying up the third stitch.

 

“Wow. Well, nurses must _throw_ themselves at you.” Marvin innocently remarks, although his tone suggests that he could read right through him too.

 

Whizzer lets a stifled laugh, his eyes never leaving the fourth stitch.

 

“No, not really.” He responds, tightly pulling the stitch across Marvin’s hand, but Marvin barely even feels the pain anymore, too hyped on adrenaline of gaining power to care.

 

“Oh come on.” Marvin continues to push, then leans down as close as he can to Whizzer’s face, “Who _wouldn’t_ want to be with a _doctor_?” Whizzer seals up the last stitch, anchoring Marvin’s flesh together like play-doe, and blatantly ignoring how close Marvin is to him.

 

Or so, Marvin thought.

 

As soon as Whizzer makes sure the stitching is intact, he looks up, straight into Marvin’s eyes.

 

Marvin smirks – although the pain meds are wearing off his courage seems to be just intact.

 

It isn’t until Whizzer lays a hand on Marvin’s thigh that Marvin starts to feel dizzy again. Whizzer leans in even closer to Marvin while simultaneously inching his hand up his leg.

 

“You’ll need to come back in a few days to remove the stitches.” Whizzer then leans into Marvin’s ear continuously breathing warm air before saying, “And nurses aren’t my type, although neither are men who cut themselves with a kitchen knife and don’t have the balls to admit it.”

 

Whizzer quickly backs away and removes his hand from Marvin’s thigh. Marvin bites his tongue so he doesn’t let out a whine from the loss of contact.

 

“Betsy will schedule you for a follow up appointment.” The doctor says adjusting his med coat and grabbing his remaining surgical supplies. He grabs the curtain, but before disappearing behind it once again, he narrows his eyes and indiscreetly says, “See you later, Marv.”

 

The abbreviation of Marvin’s name makes himself flush red with excitement and anger. Marvin guesses that this is where Whizzer expects him to stutter and trip over his words. That one touch from a pretty boy can make him lose all of his self-control and combust within himself. But that’s where this smart, yet too pretty for his own good, doctor is wrong. And to Whizzer’s obvious shock, Marvin’s face hardens into a big smile before replying,

 

_“Great.”_


End file.
